The Nicest Thing
by SierraSkye17
Summary: When Dean is whisked away to Sonny's home for delinquent boys, he can't stop thinking of how much he'd rather be anywhere else. That is, until he meets the shy, mysterious Castiel with piercing blue eyes and an affinity for shirts that are five sizes too big. 9x07 AU Destiel
1. Castiel?

**Author's Note:** This started out as a simple oneshot, but, like my other multichapter au, I couldn't help but continue it! It's based off of the idea that Dean actually met a young Castiel in the boys' home owned by Sonny- the one from 9x07. It's not meant to be completely canon so don't be alarmed if Castiel does something slightly OOC. Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

If there was one thing Dean Winchester knew it was that he wasn't meant to be here. They'd decided to stick him in a damn correctional facility for boys. A _correctional_ facility. Dean? No fucking way- he didn't belong anywhere near this place.

He was perfectly fine- he was just your average teenage boy! Boys were meant to be mischievous, to get into trouble occasionally. So what if he had actually done something that caused the cops to get involved? Staying in a home with a few other "delinquents" wasn't going to change him or make him any better. Hell, the second he was allowed to leave, he would do something ridiculously reckless just to prove how pointless his time in the home had been.

"And this is your room," Sonny sighed, pushing open the door to reveal a decently-sized room with a few beds arranged in a neat row and pushed up against the wall. The room and its furnishings weren't anything extravagant, but it certainly was a step up from many of the hotels that Dean had been subjected to in the past. No rats, no cockroaches, no bedbugs- or at least none that he could see.

"Thanks," Dean mumbled, flashing a weak smile in the older man's direction. To be fair, he'd treated the cop who brought him here like crap. But that was only because the bastard deserved it. Sonny, on the other hand, didn't deserve to bear the brunt of any of his anger- he hadn't been the one to drag Dean's ass there in the first place. He had figured that the guy would stick around and ask him if he needed anything else, but, much to Dean's relief, he quickly and silently slipped out of the room to give the boy some space.

Slowly, Dean walked over to the only empty bed in the room and rested his hand on the mattress, surprised by how comfortable it seemed. It was clearly the kind of bed in which he could actually s_leep_, which had become an absolute luxury over the years. He then began trailing his fingers across the wooden foot board, surprised to find a piece of tape stuck to its surface.

The name _Josh_ was scribbled messily in Sharpie across the piece of duct tape. Dean could only assume that Josh had been the bed's previous owner, the boy who had suffered through the same hell the young hunter was surely about to experience in the next few (hopefully) weeks.

_Guess it's my turn_, he thought with a scoff, scanning the room for the roll of tape. He straightened up and walked over to the bedside table between he and Castiel's (_whoever the hell that was_) beds. As he'd expected, the tape wasn't just sitting out in the open for him to snatch up. He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Figures," he grumbled, yanking open the drawer to continue his search.

He had just reached his hand in to grab the bulky roll of duct tape when, suddenly, a tiny "hello?" interrupted the silence.

"What the-" Dean growled, the roll of tape falling from his grasp and onto the floor. He turned towards the doorway, expecting to see a young girl considering the shy tone of the voice that had addressed him. But the figure, to his surprise, was definitely a boy.

The newcomer was a fairly, thin and average height boy with dark brown (maybe black, he couldn't tell from this distance) hair and- this is the thing that really struck Dean- _impossibly_ blue eyes. It was like standing at the edge of a lake and peering down into its clear, seemingly endless depths. And, with such a piercing gaze, Dean could almost feel himself being dragged in, forcefully shoved into its icy cold and mysterious waters.

"Um… the Sharpie isn't in _that_ bedside table," the boy murmured, staring intently at his hands as he played with the hem of his shirt, a hideous and over-sized pewter thing that looked like it belonged to the boy's father.

"Oh" Dean mumbled, surprised by the boy's comment. He'd expected some sort of introduction instead. "Thanks…?"

"Castiel," he answered softly, voice barely above a whisper. He ducked his head and averted his gaze, the beginnings of a flush reddening his cheeks. The boy- Castiel- looked pitifully fragile as he stood in the doorway, lanky and shaky, too anxious to make eye contact or walk into the room and join Dean in his search.

"Damn, what a name," Dean snorted, closing the drawer and strutting across the room to the other bedside table, "your parents hate you or something?"

"Well… they felt that I had a rebellious streak, and they sent me here so I suppose they probably do hate me."

_Shit._

"Crap, that's not what I meant," he quickly interjected, "I meant that they must hate you to give you a name like 'Castiel'."

Castiel's head shot up, his lips surprisingly twisted in a small smile. _God, how old was this guy?_ _He looks like he should still be in grade school._

"No, not at all," he insisted, finally taking a step into the room, "It's a religious name. My father is a Pastor, and my mother is simply a devout Christian. Obviously, it didn't take them a long time to decide that they would name all of their children after angels. For example, my oldest brother is named after the archangel, Micheal, and another one of my brothers is named after the angel, Gabriel. They weren't sure what to name me at first, but, since I was born on a Thursday and considering Castiel is the angel of Thursday-"

"Oh," Dean drawled, stepping away from the bedside table with the Sharpie now in hand. He smirked and shook his head with a chuckle. "Jesus freaks. I'm not surprised that they stuck your ass in here then. What'd you do? Drop the Bible? Forget to go to Church one day? _Two days?_"

Then, completely catching Dean off guard, Castiel laughed. It was like nothing the young hunter had ever heard before, light and innocent, reminding him of a small child's laugh. The sound, for some strange reason, shook him to his very core. It had been a long time since Dean had heard something so genuinely happy.

"I take it you're not religious," the boy speculated, crossing the room to stand by Dean's side, watching as he knelt down in front of his new bed. He continued to watch as Dean covered up Josh's name with a piece of tape and pulled the cap off of the Sharpie with his teeth.

"How'd you know?" he mumbled, struggling to speak with the marker cap between his teeth.

Castiel laughed yet again, filling the room with the same contagiously joyous sound that had assaulted Dean's senses earlier. Even after only hearing the sound twice, he already knew that he would easily get used to it.

"You're funny…" Castiel began, watching the other boy as he began to scrawl his name, "Dean. _Dean_… That certainly does not sound as strange as Castiel."

Dean couldn't help but smile. There was something about this kid that he immediately liked. He wasn't sure if it was the dry sense of humor hidden beneath the boy's innocent and childish façade or the way he had managed to make _him_, Dean Winchester, laugh. Either way, he seemed like a pretty likable guy.

He slowly got to his feet, pulling the cap from between his lips and placing it back on the Sharpie as he stood. Castiel didn't say a word, silently watching each movement. If it were anyone else, Dean would've found the silence to be awkward or uncomfortable, but the behavior seemed to suit Castiel.

Dean threw the Sharpie unceremoniously onto his mattress, ignoring the way Castiel's lips parted as if he wanted to protest and tell him to put the marker back in its rightful place. He turned, holding his hand out expectantly in the other boy's direction.

"Nice to meet you, Cas," Dean insisted, casually using the first nickname that had come to mind, and grasped Castiel's smaller hand in his own. He couldn't help but notice that the other boy's hands weren't marred by the same callouses found on his own palms.

_Cas… maybe this place won't be that bad._


	2. Oh, Sweet Corruption

**Author's Note:** Never before has corruption been so much fun.

* * *

Chores. Dean Winchester had gone from helping his father track down and kill supernatural scum to doing _this_? It was ridiculous, that's what it was. No self-respecting hunter should be forced to push a lawn mower around, let alone in this kind of oppressive heat. He'd said it several times before, and he would say it again if it weren't for the fact Castiel had already heard it ten times just that day. _He didn't belong here_.

"This weather…" Castiel drawled, bringing Dean back from his thoughts, "it makes this work unbearable, doesn't it?"

Dean turned to face the shorter boy, raising his hand to wipe sweat from his brow. It was the strangest thing. Castiel, he'd discovered, was two years younger than him and yet he chose to speak like an adult. He always spoke with proper grammar and never let a single curse word slip past his lips. Dean had never encountered anything like it before.

"You better believe it," Dean grumbled. Castiel's grin widened as it always did when the young hunter agreed with him. Dean didn't quite understand the whole thing, but it sure as hell seemed like the poor guy wasn't used to praise or, to be honest, positivity in general.

"Hey, Cas?"

"Yes?" Castiel answered expectantly, tilting his head to the side with that damn grin still plastered to his face.

Dean bit his lip and slowly came to a stop, glancing away from the curious expression on Castiel's face. Did he really want to bring this up? He had no idea what the younger boy's home life had been like, and he certainly didn't want to strike a nerve or bring back any bad memories. But Dean was a Winchester- he was a _man_. And if he wasn't careful, this would quickly become a chick-flick moment.

"Why do you that?" he asked gruffly, carefully watching Castiel's face for a reaction.

The younger boy's head tilted even further to the side, if at all possible, and his eyebrows rose. There it was again, that completely innocent and child-like face that made Dean's chest ache. The way it made the hunter feel… it frightened him more than any supernatural monster ever could. He could feel his attachment to the boy growing even though he'd only known him for a week. Shit, were him and Cas… were they _friends_?

"Do what?" Castiel wondered, yet again dragging Dean back to reality.

"You know…" Dean muttered, suddenly unsure of how to word his question, "how you talk. Why do you talk like that?"

Castiel's eyes widened, and he took a step back. It was if Dean had slapped the boy. Immediately, the hunter felt like the biggest asshole on the face of the Earth. What the hell had he been thinking?

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that in a-"

"No, no, it's fine," Castiel interjected, voice just above a whisper, "that's a reasonable question. I'm not sure if I will be able to answer it, but I will try to the best of my abilities."

"You see, Dean, my parents have a fascinating philosophy. They believe that obedience is the key to success, and, therefore, my siblings and I were expected to follow every single one of their commands. One of those commands just so happened to be polite and dignified speech.

"I suppose I could have stopped speaking in this manner considering they are no longer around, but…"

His face suddenly contorted in pain, his normally bright gaze darkened by something Dean couldn't quite grasp. Castiel licked his lips and chuckled, a hollow sound that sent a nervous shiver down Dean's spine.

"It's like I can't stop! I have been trying to change it since the moment I arrived here, and I… I just _can't_," he cried, eyes wild with what Dean could only imagine was hatred. The more the hunter watched the younger boy, the way his face seemed to crumble right before his eyes, he realized that his life may not be as shitty as he'd previously thought.

"It's okay, Cas, really," Dean insisted, reaching over to place a comforting hand on the younger boy's shoulder, "I'm not gonna lie to you- I can't say that I understand where you're coming from. _But_ I might know how to help you. Okay?"

Castiel hesitantly met Dean's gaze and responded with a little nod.

"Alright, so, here's what I want you to do. I want you to just scream the first curse word that comes to mind," Dean instructed, trying to be as serious as possible. It had sounded much better in his head.

"What? Dean, you can't possibly-"

"Shit!" the hunter cried, causing Castiel to jump. The poor guy almost looked personally offended by the sudden outburst. "_Dean-_"

"Bitch! Hell!" Dean continued. This was the most fun he'd ever had corrupting someone in his entire life… even if he had only corrupted his own brother. And he hadn't really finished accomplishing that yet so it didn't count.

"This is ridiculous! You can't possibly think that _this_ will make me feel better!"

"Oh c'mon, Cas, live a little!" Dean chuckled, playfully squeezing the younger boy's shoulder before pulling his hand away. "Just try it!"

Castiel rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "Fine, but I don't believe that it will make much of a difference."

He cleared his throat, his hands curling into fists at his side. Dean would never admit it to anyone, but his immediate thought was that the younger boy looked… well, he didn't even have a word for it. He didn't appear to be as small and fragile as he normally looked. There was something about the dark strands of hair stuck to his forehead and the beads of sweat trickling down the side of his face that made him seem older, more mature. _Figures_, Dean thought with a snort_, he's wearing one of his damn over-sized shirts again_.

"Okay… um… damn," Castiel mumbled, faltering on the last word. Dean honestly wasn't surprised; he hadn't expected him to belt it out anyway.

"No, Cas, damn!" he yelled. He couldn't help but laugh at the way Castiel cringed at the sound. "Try again."

"A-alright… Damn!" Castiel repeated, raising his voice slightly. Again, he cringed at the mention of the word and turned to Dean, clearly desperate for his reassurance.

"Yeah, that's better," Dean encouraged, "just a _little bit_ louder. Say it like you mean it!"

"Damn!"

"There you go! Get angry! Loud and proud!"

"Damn!" Castiel cried excitedly. For once, he looked happy, happier than Dean had seen him since he'd arrived at the home. The thought seemed to stir something deep within the hunter, something he couldn't completely comprehend and wasn't really sure that he wanted to at this point.

"Yeah! That's my-"

"Damn! Damn!" the younger boy repeated. Yep, Dean was definitely going to hell for making someone so young feel so good about cursing at the top of his lungs.

"Da-"

"Dean! Castiel! Be quiet out there! You boys know better!" Sonny suddenly yelled.

And Dean didn't mean to burst out laughing, he really didn't, but nothing was funnier than the look of terror on Castiel's face when he heard the older man's voice.


	3. Spin The Bottle

**Author's Note:** The one where spin the bottle doesn't go exactly as planned.

* * *

"Girls?"

Dean rolled his eyes. He had only known Jason and Braeden for two weeks and yet he could immediately tell they were the usual perpetrators of bullshit. Neither of them looked like the kind of guy that could convince living, breathing girls to spend time with them.

"I swear, man," Braeden insisted, reaching up to adjust his glasses, "their names are Sarah and Taylor. Jason and I met them the other day when we had lawn duty." Jason, the shorter of the two, puffed out his chest and nodded excitedly in agreement, the long strands of his blond hair flopping down in front of his round face.

"You expect me to believe that two girls just walked up to"- Dean gestured at the two boys- "you two and said they wanted to _hang out_?"

Jason stepped forward, casually pushing past Braeden's larger frame. "C'mon, Dean, they said they'd come over tonight. Stop being such an ass about it," he snapped, "we'll just wait and see if they actually show up, and, if they don't, _then_ you can walk around and brag about being right like the dick that you are."

Dean towered over the other boy, confidently meeting his furious gaze. As per usual, Castiel stood by the young hunter's side and didn't say a single word. Instead, he moved closer, his fingers lightly brushing against Dean's. The hunter pretended like he didn't feel the contact to avoid any awkward conversations, but it was all an act. And hell if that wasn't terrifying.

"That sounds like a wise plan," Castiel commented, a silent _keep your mouth shut, Dean_ in his tone, "we will simply have to wait and see if they decide to join us. Right, Dean?" He turned to look up at his frustrated companion, his blue eyes holding more authority than the young hunter had yet seen.

"Yeah," Dean mumbled, "I guess so." He shot one more glare in Braeden and Jason's direction before turning away, quickly grabbing Cas's wrist to drag him along. The younger boy gasped but didn't resist, obediently trailing behind the hunter.

Dean led the way to the living room. He eagerly slouched into the comfort of the large, beige couch and gently tugged Cas down so that his thin frame filled the empty space beside him. As much as Dean wanted to avoid the thought, he couldn't help but notice the way they seemed to fit perfectly, with their thighs pressed together, the hunter's hand casually slung across the back of the plush piece of furniture. The whole seating arrangement felt incredibly natural, as if they were designed to be a pair, a matched set. _Well, that's because we're meant to be best friends_, Dean quickly reminded himself.

"So, you really think they're gonna show up?" Dean asked, casting a skeptical look over at Cas. The younger boy shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, his hideously-oversized, heather gray shirt sliding down, enough that more of his collarbone was visible than usual. The young hunter wasn't quite sure why the exposed skin was the thing he chose to notice, but he immediately pushed the seemingly insignificant detail to the back of his mind.

"Well," Cas sighed, "as I said earlier, we will just have to wait and see."

* * *

Dean couldn't believe it. The bastards had been telling the truth all along- a fact that they certainly didn't mind reminding him of as two fairly attractive girls strut through the front door. When Sonny greeted them with equal parts confusion and pleasant surprise, they immediately turned on the charm.

The first girl to walk in (Sarah) used her shorter stature, wide blue eyes, and long, curly strands of ebony hair to her advantage. She absentmindedly twirled a lock of hair around her finger and spoke in a soft, sweet tone, peering up at Sonny through thick, doll-like lashes. Dean would be more surprised to see Sonny turn the girl away than offer her an invitation inside.

The second girl (Taylor) also tried to charm her way inside. Unlike her companion, she stood only an inch or two shorter than Dean with shoulder-length blonde hair and brilliant hazel eyes, chestnut brown with flecks of forest green. Something in the way she walked, her stance, led the hunter to believe that she was the one that called the shots. She wasn't as talkative as Sarah, but Sonny appeared to take a liking to her nevertheless.

Dean couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but it must've been what the girls were hoping to hear. With bounces in their step, they walked past Sonny and into the living room, where the four boys sat, arranged in a small circle on the floor, anxiously waiting. The hunter could practically feel Cas's fear, as if it were a creature crouching over the poor boy with its teeth bared, poised to attack. Without a second thought, he reached over and grabbed the other boy's hand, squeezing it reassuringly and pulling away.

"Well, well, well," Sarah giggled, "is that what I think it is?" She gestured down at the bottle in the middle of the circle. The four boys stared at the object as if they had no idea how it had gotten there, wide eyed and speechless.

"It's a bottle," Braeden squeaked, "for… spin the bottle?" He swallowed visibly, watching as Sarah took a seat in the circle between he and Dean, while Taylor decided to sit between Jason and Cas. The young hunter didn't like the way the tall blonde's eyes raked over Castiel's thin frame and mussed dark brown hair, lingering on his lips.

"Oh," Taylor drawled, "I see how this is gonna be." She glanced over at Cas and winked. That's right, the bitch had the audacity to wink at the poor guy. Dean quickly reached over and squeezed Castiel's leg, hoping to send a message to blondie that his friend wasn't interested. Which wasn't a weird thing to do at all, by the way.

Unfortunately, Taylor didn't seem to appreciate the gesture. She narrowed her eyes, peering suspiciously over at Dean. The mischievous glint in her gaze was something the young hunter knew far too well. "I think _he_ should go first," she purred and turned to Sarah, "what do you think?"

Sarah seemed to think it over, tapping her finger dramatically against her chin as if it were actually a difficult decision. Then, a disturbing realization struck Dean. She reminded him, in a way, of… no, of course not! He was losing it. It was his first experience with girls and kissing; it only made sense that he'd be a little on edge.

"Sounds fine to me," Sarah finally giggled, shrugging her shoulders. She pointed at the bottle and tapped her long, pastel pink fingernail on the glass. "Take her for a spin…?"

"Dean," the hunter mumbled, squirming uncomfortably under the scrutinizing look Taylor was shooting in his direction.

"Yeah, _Dean, _go for it," Taylor insisted, continuing to leer at Dean as if he were a bug she couldn't wait to crush.

Hesitantly, the hunter reached for the bottle, shocked by how cold the glass was as he gripped it. He sent a quick prayer to whatever god there may be watching his impending doom and turned the bottle. The urge to close his eyes and block out the ecstatic jeers of his onlookers nearly overwhelmed him.

"Go, go, go, go… oh." And, just like that, the room went silent.

Dean stared down at the offending object for several seconds, unable to come to terms with the person the neck of the bottle faced. He slowly lifted his gaze, starting with thin, moderately hairy legs, working up to the frayed hem of a large shirt, up to a surprisingly defined jawline and comically-wide, cerulean irises, a few stray strands of dark brown hair hanging down in front of them. _Shit._

"Oh!" Sarah trilled excitedly, "boy kissing! Way to spice things up a little, _Dean_."

Dean couldn't seem to remember how to speak, captivated by Cas's heaving chest and aghast expression. He looked incredibly scandalized, which was, of course, to be expected of someone who strived to avoid contractions when he spoke. The very image of innocence was about to experience his first kiss- _with another boy_.

"Yeah, um, I don't know if that's such a good idea," Dean managed to finally reply. Sarah simply giggled- her response to just about anything, it seemed- while Taylor grinned like the damn Cheshire cat. The blonde looked far too happy about the current turn of events.

"What's the matter? Are you scared?" Taylor purred, slinging her arm across Cas's shoulders, "Are you… chicken?"

"Yeah, Dean," Jason chuckled, clearly loving the way Dean's cheeks were beginning to flush with embarrassment, "what's the matter? Just give him a little"- he puckered his lips- "kissie kiss. Show us all that you're not a pussy."

Jason seemed to have found one of Dean's weaknesses. The hunter _hated_ it when people tried to accuse him of being a pussy; he was a man, dammit.

"Fine," he growled. He turned his body to face Cas, shifting onto his knees, cautiously meeting the younger boy's wide, dumbstruck stare. He felt as if he were about to take the guy's virginity or something. Someone so innocent, so honest and kind, didn't deserve to have a half-assed first kiss, that much Dean was sure of. And although the last thing Dean wanted was for anyone to think of him as less of a man, he would try his best to give his friend the kind of kiss he had the right to. At least, that was the plan.

He leaned in closer, placing his hands on either side of the other boy's crossed legs. Never before had he noticed the refreshing smell of cotton that lingered on Cas's skin, the jut of his exposed collarbone, the length of his dark lashes. At this distance, every little detail stood out. "Don't worry, buddy," he whispered, careful to speak in a tone that only his friend could hear.

The first thing Dean noticed when their lips finally touched had to be how soft the younger boy's lips were, how plaint, melting under his touch. The little sigh that slipped past Cas's lips was the second thing, a response that seemed to shut down every single one of Dean's brain functions. He felt like he needed to get closer, as if he wouldn't be satisfied until their bodies were completely flush.

_Is this what kissing is supposed to be like?_ Dean wondered, struggling to keep his hands from reaching up to cup Cas's face. How was kissing his friend any different than kissing the similarly soft- or at least he guessed that they were- lips of a girl? He certainly wasn't disgusted by what he was doing. Did that mean… oh God, _was he gay_?

Quickly, frightened by the thought, Dean pulled away. He couldn't help but steal one more glance at Cas's swollen lips and dilated pupils before turning away, smiling weakly at the other members of the circle. Sarah looked indifferent, maybe even somewhat pleased, while Taylor appeared to be flabbergasted. Dean took some comfort in the fact that he had been able to take the wind out of the bitch's sails. Braeden and Jason, on the other hand, seemed both intrigued and horrified. The hunter wondered briefly if they would enjoy kissing each other as much as he had enjoyed kissing Cas.

"Alright," Dean chimed, "whose next?" It took every ounce of willpower not to meet Castiel's gaze, those beautiful blue eyes filled with desperation and confusion. He wanted nothing more than to whisk the other boy away to another room and ask him how the kiss had made _him_ feel; he needed to know whether he was the only one. Hell, he needed to know whether he was the only one going crazy.

"Oh, well, um," Sarah babbled, nervously playing with the hem of her skirt, "who _wants_ to go?" As was expected, no one had the courage to volunteer, afraid they would end up having to kiss their friend as Dean had.

"Maybe we should, uh," Jason mumbled, "watch a movie instead?"


	4. Yay, Feelings

**Author's Note:** "Nothing would make me want to stop being friends with you." (or the one where Dean and Cas finally discuss their "feelings")

* * *

Although it housed about a dozen "delinquents", the boys' home was nearly silent at night. Every resident did as they were told and settled quietly into their beds. No one even considered trying to leave, maybe attempting to climb out one of the windows and run off into the night. But, even then, they were still "bad boys".

Usually, Dean found it easy to fall asleep. His sleeping schedule had improved dramatically over the course of his time in the home, no longer having to wake up at 3 in the morning to escape or catch some supernatural creature. There didn't seem to be any real danger at the home, and Dean could sleep peacefully without interruption. It was a welcome change from the lifestyle he had become accustomed to.

But, tonight, there was something keeping him awake, something he couldn't stop thinking about: that godforsaken kiss. Every time he felt as if he may finally drift off, the memory of soft lips, small sighs, and brilliant blue eyes forced him to sit up and glance over at his soundly sleeping friend in the bed beside his.

He still had yet to ask him how the kiss had made _him_ feel. Had he felt an overwhelming desire to press his body as close to Dean's as possible? Had the whole world seemed to fade away when their lips met, no longer important? Had he wanted nothing more than to kiss Dean again the moment they separated? The young hunter didn't want to be alone, to be the only one who couldn't stop thinking about the experience. He simply _had _to know.

Dean tried, once again, to fall asleep. He buried his face in the comforting familiarity of his pillow, breathing in the scent of cotton and clean sheets. He tried to picture a grassy field with beautiful purple flowers swaying in the wind. It was his "happy place", a tranquil scene that usually embraced him and carried him off into what his mother had called "dream land".

Suddenly, the smell of cotton filled the air. Dean assumed it was because of the pillow still pressed against his cheek. That is until he turned and noticed Castiel sitting cross-legged beside him, thin frame shrouded in a faded yellow shirt a few sizes too large (his defining feature, Dean had concluded). Admittedly, the other boy didn't seem out of place in the quiet field, flashing a warm smile in Dean's direction.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel greeted softly. The genuine kindness in his voice, inviting him closer, was all it took. Dean's eyes flew open, peering out at the pitch black interior of the boys' bedroom. He had been _so close_ to sinking into that wonderfully blissful state and yet it had evaded him once again.

He sighed and rolled over onto his other side, hoping that it might make a difference. To his surprise, he came face to face with the powerful and strangely intense stare of the boy who invaded his dreams

"Dean?" Castiel whispered, brow furrowed, "what is the matter? Are you unable to fall asleep?"

The bastard looked smaller buried in the thick comforter, a fact that brought back the nervous fluttering in Dean's chest from when the two had kissed. Strands of dark hair shot out in every direction, ready to be photographed and added to the dictionary under "bed head". There was no way in hell he'd be able to get to sleep now. The moment he'd close his eyes again, the image of his fingers buried in mussed hair would be there, that much Dean was sure of.

"Uh," he replied dumbly, slowly sitting up, "yeah. I, um, can't sleep."

Castiel's eyes narrowed suspiciously, and he, too, sat up. Little did the younger boy know that it only made things worse. He slept in the same shirt he'd worn in Dean's brief dream and a pair of blue boxers decorated with tiny crosses and banners insisting that "God saves". Dean felt like he needed to take a long shower to cleanse himself of the inappropriate thoughts dancing through his head. This was his friend. His innocent, _male_ friend.

"That is unfortunate. I wish that there was something I could do to help," Castiel replied softly, his voice thick with concern and sincerity.

"Yeah..." Dean mumbled, reaching up to scratch the nape of his neck. Castiel had set it up for him perfectly. He only had to ask him about the kiss, no matter how frightened he was of the answer, and he could do it; Dean wasn't a pussy, after all.

"Actually," he drawled, hesitantly meeting Castiel's wide-eyed, expectant stare, "there might be something you can do to help."

"And what would that be?" The younger boy wondered, his head tilting to the side in that adorable way it always did when he was thoroughly confused.

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but couldn't seem to think of how to word his request. _Hey, Cas, did you get all hot and bothered when we were kissing today? Well, I really want to climb into your bed right now and make out with you so I sure as hell hope your answer is yes._ Oh yeah, that would do it.

"I... well," he began weakly, playing absentmindedly with the hem of his night shirt, "I have a question. For you."

"For me?" Castiel asked, clearly still unsure as to what was going on.

"Uh, yeah. I was wondering if you... um- the kiss? How- you...?" Dean babbled stupidly. _Spot on, Winchester._

"Oh," Castiel responded, averting his gaze from the anxious stare of the young hunter, "the kiss."

That didn't sound reassuring. He'd finally gone and done it. Once again, Dean had fucked up one of the few good things he had going for him. He and Castiel had grown to be so close, and the last thing he wanted was to lose their friendship.

"Listen-"

"No, no, that is a legitimate question," the younger boy interrupted, "you want to know what I thought of the kiss. Yes?"

Surprisingly, Dean managed to nod his head. He knew what was coming. Castiel would tell him that it had grossed him out, that he would rather kiss a girl any day. Or, knowing Cas, he may dislike the idea of kissing in general.  
"I do not wish to make you uncomfortable, Dean," Castiel insisted, "so please do not overreact to what I am about to say."

The young hunter nodded in agreement once again. Nothing could possibly make him feel uncomfortable after the dirty things he'd been thinking as he watched his tired friend.

"I... to be perfectly honest, I enjoyed it," Castiel finished quickly, cautiously meeting Dean's emerald green eyes.

The young hunter's breath caught in his throat. The darkness seemed to brighten somewhat, and the weight of his stress lifted from his shoulders. Cas had enjoyed it! He hadn't been disgusted, and, better yet, that probably meant he would still want to be friends.

"Really?" Dean squeaked, unable to keep his excitement contained, "I-I did, too." Castiel smiled affectionately and chuckled softly.

"That is good to hear," Castiel admitted, "I was worried that you had been disturbed by the gesture and would no longer want to be friends."

"No!" Dean cried, quickly covering his mouth when he remembered that everyone else was trying to sleep and wouldn't be happy when his suddenly shrill voice woke them up. Cas mimicked the gesture, covering his own mouth to hide the laughter shaking his small body.

"Of course not," Dean continued, lowering his voice back to a whisper, "nothing would make me want to stop being friends with you."

Castiel gasped, eyes widening. _Well, shit_. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. It was alright to think it, but it was far too intimate to say to your best friend, even if he was the only companion Dean had ever had beside his own brother.

"Thank you, Dean," Castiel muttered, the beginnings of a flush reddening his cheeks and neck, "I feel the same way about you."

It was now Dean's turn to flush with embarrassment, turning his head away. "Thanks, man," he chuckled weakly, "that definitely helps. I... I think I can sleep now."

Castiel's grin widened. "Well I am happy to hear that I was able to assist you," the younger boy whispered, sinking back into the comfort of his mattress, "sleep well, Dean."

Dean lowered himself back down and rolled over to face the wall. He closed his eyes and found himself in the grassy field once again. Castiel still sat by his side, but the young hunter no longer shied away from him. He reached out and intertwined their fingers, flashing a small, shy smile in the other boy's direction.

"You too, Cas."


	5. Platonic Kissing

**Author's** **Note**: "A platonic kiss? C'mon, Cas," Dean chuckled, shaking his head, "that's not a thing."

* * *

There were a lot of things Dean suspected would happen during his time in Sonny's home. In a house full of stubborn teenage boys such as himself, he expected to get into at least _some_ mischief. He'd heard about places like this at just about every middle school and high school he'd had the "privilege" of attending. But starting a secretive relationship- that he didn't quite know how to define yet- with one of his roommates was certainly not one of them.

And yet here he was, scanning the hallway before sprinting in the direction of the boys' sleeping room with his new friend in tow. He threw open the door and urgently gestured for Castiel to go in, continuing to watch for any spectators or snitches. The last thing he needed was for one of the nosy son of a bitches to see them and run to Sonny, whining about having to room with a "gay boy". Which Dean certainly wasn't and neither was Castiel. To his relief, neither Sonny nor any of the other boys was anywhere to be seen.

He smiled and stepped through the doorway to join Castiel, carefully shutting the door behind him. He turned and felt that strange yet familiar sensation of butterflies frantically fluttering in his chest return. Castiel sat patiently on the young hunter's bed, thin body engulfed in an over-sized and seedy lavender shirt with a large cross embroidered on the front. His legs were similarly dwarfed by a pair of baggy gray sweatpants he'd had to borrow from Dean when he realized it was a little too cold outside for shorts. He peered up at Dean, brilliant blue eyes watching him intently, dark hair adorably mussed, a soft smile on his lips.

He felt like he may vomit. What was he doing? This was his _friend_, his naive and incredibly kind friend who was probably only doing all of this to humor him and help him through his current identity crisis. Something which Dean didn't feel he deserved.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Castiel giggled, his use of contractions eliciting a proud little smirk from Dean, "I feel... bad. But it does not feel _wrong_."

"That's because it isn't wrong," Dean snorted, rolling his eyes. With his heart pounding wildly in his chest, the young hunter cautiously joined Castiel. He hopped up onto the bed and scooted closer, sitting close enough that their thighs and sides touched. The contact was strangely comforting. Well, it wasn't _that _strange. Dean had a pretty good idea of why he liked the lack of space between them.

"How so? We did not help Braeden and Liam with the rest of the dishes. That does not seem right to me," Castiel explained, sounding eerily like a frustrated teacher or maybe even parent.

"Yeah, but we did all of our other chores today! Even the really shitty stuff like cleaning the bathroom," Dean argued, leaning more of his weight against Castiel. Thankfully, the younger boy didn't comment on his shift in position, and he didn't move away either.

"I suppose," Castiel sighed and, to Dean's surprise, leaned his head on the young hunter's shoulder. He couldn't stop the tiny gasp from slipping past his lips, caught off guard by the strands of hair now tickling his jawline and chin. He was so fucking screwed.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean croaked, clenching his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching over to touch Castiel. It wasn't like he wanted to do anything dirty, though. He only wanted to card his fingers through the other boy's hair or maybe grab his hand. Hell, he'd settle for just resting his hand on the other boy's thigh. _Shit_. Dean Winchester was officially turning into a lovesick teenage girl.

"I have never had a friend before and... I was just wondering..." he began hesitantly, "the two of us? What happened the other night? After we played that game? Is that what good friends usually do?"

Although Dean already knew _exactly_ what the younger boy was referring to, he mumbled, "What do you mean?"

"Well, if I'm being honest, I would very much like to kiss you again. I... is that normal?"

Dean felt his throat tighten, the room suddenly spinning, and glanced down into Castiel's now upturned face. The genuinely curious expression made the young hunter want to run away, to bolt, to get as far away from this house as he possibly could. The poor son of a bitch really didn't know.

"Uh, Cas," Dean mumbled, turning away from the other boy's concerned stare to try and hide the flush creeping its way up his neck, "not exactly."

Castiel's eyes widened, lips parting in a small, surprised "o". His own cheeks began to redden with embarrassment, making him appear even cuter- if that were even possible. "Oh," he whispered, "I see."

Several seconds of charged silence passed before Castiel continued. "I thought... I mean, I was aware that kissing was not a gesture intended to be shared between two friends. I simply thought that... maybe it happened occasionally. In a completely platonic manner."

Dean scoffed, thankful for the excuse to laugh and relieve some of the uncomfortable tension. "A platonic kiss? C'mon, Cas," he chuckled, shaking his head, "that's not a thing."

"But maybe it could be," Castiel insisted. Without warning, he reached up and cupped Dean's face, gently turning his head so that he could fully have the young hunter's attention. Dean felt like his face was on fire. He worried that he may spontaneously combust at any second if Castiel didn't pull away.

"We're different, Dean," the young boy explained softly, "you and I... I'm not sure how to describe it. We have... A very profound bond."

"A profound bond, huh?" Dean squeaked, immediately wanting to smack himself in the face when his voice came out more shrill than he'd wanted. Great, it looked like his transformation into a girl was nearly complete.

"Yes," Castiel laughed, his smile widening, "and we should, therefore, be able to kiss and still be friends. Does that sound acceptable?"

Dean had never felt so terribly conflicted before. On the one hand, he wanted to be able to claim Castiel as his own, to keep him away from any girl that may show up and try to get into his pants. And, at the same time, it would certainly be a lot easier on his already damaged manhood if he were able to keep kissing his friend without having to accept his suddenly shaky heterosexuality.

"Okay," he mumbled, unable to tear his gaze away from the seemingly plush bow of Castiel's lips.

"Okay," the younger boy repeated, smoothing his thumb along Dean's jawline.

Before the young hunter could speak up and ask his friend what exactly that meant, a pair of warm, soft lips were pressed excitedly to his.

* * *

Apparently, kissing wasn't the only thing that could be platonic. To Dean's delight, Castiel seemed to think that making out (fully clothed, of course) could be a friendly exchange as well.

The week following their little discussion about the true nature of their relationship was filled with short "platonic" make out sessions. They were completely random and happened just about anywhere throughout the house. It ranged from the boys' room to the backyard to the kitchen and even to the bathroom once or twice. And the whole thing clearly was Castiel's fault.

The day after they'd talked, once the two boys had finished their lawn duty, the younger boy had dragged Dean into the closet closest to the boys' room. The young hunter had been completely shocked, but, of course, he went along with it.

Cramped in the tiny space, bodies covered in droplets of sweat, Dean felt more anxious than he had in a while. Which, of course, was saying a lot considering the bizarre crap he had encountered every day as a hunter.

"Cas, buddy, what are you- mmm!"

Castiel had shoved him up against the only wall not lined with hanging clothes, frantically pressing his lips to Dean's as if his life depended on it. His hands were everywhere, mapping out his body, slipping beneath the other boy's sweat-saturated shirt, brushing over his abdomen before settling on his hips.

The fact that Castiel had thought of sneaking into a closet to share a few kisses between chores was surprising to begin with. But the way he had taken control and was now dominating the kiss was enough to make Dean's head spin. Since when had innocent little Castiel been so damn dirty? Dean sighed contentedly and excitedly brushed his tongue along the seam of Castiel's lips, hoping that they'd part. Instead, the younger boy pulled away. _Bastard._

"Cas, what the-"

"We need to get back to work," Castiel growled and leaned down to press one more hungry kiss to Dean's skin, deciding on a sensitive spot along the young hunter's jawline.

Dean was about to protest, but didn't get the opportunity. As quickly as it had begun, Castiel was opening the closet door and tugging his friend along once again.

But Dean wasn't going to complain. He had a good feeling it wouldn't be the last time he found himself shoved up against that wall. And, of course, he was right.


End file.
